Hey internet.

What's up? I'm restless tonight, and feel like hammering out some experiences before the worst happens (and it could! at any time! car accidents! swine flu!), but I'm not sure where my 'personal blog' lives these days. Tumblr? Here? Probably Tumblr, it's where I just reflex stream anything that entertains or moves me these days due to cbfness re: creating own content. So I starting letting my mind pour out there but then I realised that it's just banal show-and-tell "on Tuesday mummy and daddy took me on a holiday to ___ and I wore a hat and bort a pill box and [etc]" WHICH dundundun may deter my fervent followers and so like... I'm just putting it out here. Sentences with too many words in them. Mumblings of a teenager with a backache. This is where I'm at.

10 hours in the car today and I'm back in black! Somehow it's approaching 1am and I still haven't unpacked but nevermind dears. There are leftover mince pies to be nibbled and emails to be checked, everything in its place and the like.

I had told Vaanie I would blog for her, but never quite made it to a computer. That was a pity too, because the day I arrived in Canberra I was feeling so damned poetic. Really! It was unusual, born I think of hours in the car reading Dave Eggers pretty intently, feeling all affected and quasi-inspired by this early-20s mid-1990s hyperbolic tender pomo bildungsroman-y memwah [note 'memoir' is now pronounced in the manner of John Malkovich's character in Burn After Reading, that sexy drawling beast]. Canberra is actually pretty incredbile. Ask me about it some time! I will be defend it staunchly, albeit ignorantly, having spent two pleasant days there in six years.

So then it's that drowsy feeling as though you're about to start sobering up, caused by ideas from books, lethargy, shitty fast food and a weird little inland country town whose sole tourist attraction is a hulking huge submarine hull enshrined in a grassy park. Holgarth! Pit stop of the century! It was strange days.

Saw family in Tocumwal. In summary: Christmas presents = 10 or so books, Van Gogh print, hip journal, two or three sundry items, nice things from Andy inc. customised headphones!. Christmas holiday: very nice, good wine, interesting salads, catching up, cool cousins, card games, entomological and etymological appreciation. Murray River, amateur fireworks. Suchlike.
During the course all this I realised I'm having a feeble sort of epiphany atm also, of the tired old self-improvement-through-literature variety, which is embarrassing. But kinda sweet too right? Reading list since going away last Tues:

1. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius - Dave Eggers
2. Orlando: A Biography - Vag Woolf
3. A Room of One's Own - ditto, and consumed pretty much within the same 24 hour period!
4. Franny and Zooey - J.D. Salinger
5. The Consolations of Philosophy - Alain de Botton

Whatever shall I stumble through next! It's a toss up between The Adrian Mole Diaries and Great Expectations really, haha. Or some more Alain de Botton [Status Anxiety] but goddamn what a dork he art. The first half of Consolations is so banal, and the second is by turns *headdesk*ing and life-changing. Questionable questionable!

Further: my newish cartilage piercings are infected againn, crusting up the metal, can anyone figure out why I keep getting more of the damn things? Nine punctures, at last count. And a curiouser obstacle: I return home to find all my Papermate Gel Roller IIs have stopped working. They still have ink and everything, they've just been lying prone for waay too long! I've stopped writing! I forget to bring my notebook places, my journal has temporal gaps intimidatingly wide so I just feel guilty and forget about it. I fear my own creativity or lack thereof (if you don't try you can't fail, right? WRONG, the two are synonymous, one way only, in that a square is a rectangle but a rectangle is not necessarily an equilateral, capiche?

So anyway this blog is just to say I'm going into hibernation until New Year's Eve. I will be doing my darndest not to Tumblr (some posts in the queue for y'all though) - the past 5 days I've only been on the internet once, five minutes on Facebook, and I felt alot more... vital? by the end of that. And this is kind of a blanket ban on all interaction: There's a party tomorrow night. I'm not going. And noone ask me out for coffee or anything until January either please my darlings. There is much to do!

• reading pile exactly 30 books high, if lain cover on cover. some titles are less enticing than others and will probably be relegated to the bottom for another year or so, but nonetheless. much to be carrying on with! see epiphany.
• oodles of TV on DVD to consume over rolling hills of ironing
• I'm going to make something. not sure what yet, but There Will Be Glitter!
• I have to cook and clean while mum's away in Melbourne, work that vagina yeah
• like three potentially life-altering medical appointments to configure
• should really tart up my resume
• should REALLY get my L's
  

Happy Holidays and all that!

11:11

So. High school is World War 1. No kidding, it really is - you're not on the front line all the time, but there are days or months or years when getting up to catch the train really feels like 'going over the top'. And year 12? Everyone does their HSC in 1918. The major works and exams are Ludendorff's Operation Michael and now it's July and August and we're tearing up the counter offensives with Monash and Foch and tanks and speed and combined arms attacks all over the place.



Today I signed an armistice agreement in a railroad car in France. How fucking awesome is that right?


According to Wikipedia, some other notable events that have occured on past eleventh days of the eleventh months include:

1634 – Following pressure from Anglican bishop John Atherton, the Irish House of Commons passes "An Act for the Punishment for the Vice of Buggery". (aw shit!)
1975 – Australian constitutional crisis of 1975: Australian Governor-General Sir John Kerr dismisses the government of Gough Whitlam and commissions Malcolm Fraser as caretaker Prime Minister, and announces a general election to be held in early December. (BOO. I can has my free education back now please?)
1992 – The Church of England votes to allow women to become priests. (women? as intelligent and spiritual as men? civilisation is crumblinggg)

It's the end of the beginning, and my birthday tomorrow, and everything hits at once... Two minutes silence please! Then the rest of our lives: dancing.

Joanna Newsom touring etc.

Ahh oh dear. Have been lining up an extravagant amount of concerts for someone so unemplyed this summer. Do I go do I go can I afford it (who cares) do I go? If so, who will go with me?

linkypoo - Sydney Opera House Concert Hall, Monday 18 January 2010

[Update: Waaait JENS LEKMAN is supporting on her Wollongong date. But apparently not in Sydney? What is this shit? I almost don't want to go at all out of spite!]

P.S. Also on the musical side of things - Ooh la la, Girls have sent out a new version of their beloved Lust For Life video but with more dicks, boobs and guitars. NSFW obvs. I think I might like the clean cut better though actually, for all its (irresistable, sigh) pseudo-retro pretentions and relative lack of nudity. It's just a bit funn(i)er? Or maybe because I first saw it before listening to the song a hundred thousand times so the impact was better.

Giirrlls you are so 1990s lo-fi stoned sun-brushed home-movie-as-political-statement Indian summer musty Kool Aid fresh. Zeitgeist, dayumn...

It's not like there's anyone left who doesn't read PostSecret, but really now, really.

17 days left of being 17! I'm on the edge... (Here is my secret: earlier this year I went through an [extremely short] phase where I wanted to beeee Stevie Nicks. That fluffy hair! Those whirling capes! Platform heels! It passed, of course. These things do. But I still think she's badass.)

(And isn't it cute how I'm counting these things down? It's kinda just because of the end of the HSC aka end of the world as we know it coincide right about there though. Speaking of which, where did my night go? Bothersticks!)

Fitz and Dizzyspells

I can't help but be impressed by my hard-partying neighbours. They have played 'So What' by P!ink* not twice, not thrice, but five times and counting this fine evening! That is some dedication to still being a rockstar/ having my own car, right there. I actually have to study though guys, so I'm trying to blast it out with Satie** but um, ill conceived plan because the work of Satie is generally very very quiet, like Phillip Glass you know. Phillip Glass <3s Satie. That is what I learned from Wikipedia today. Speaking of ill conceived plans though... Board of Studies, English Paper 2. WHAT WAS THAT? I had a rant prepared, fuming on the way home, "clogged with dregs of betrayal, reprisal, hatred", but I swallowed it, but suffice to say, I no longer have an academic future. My Hamlet thesis was awesome though year 11s: ask me to send it to you so you can leech off my now-unacknowledged genius and maybe it will have its moment of glory next year when the HSC won't make me cry with needlespecific questions on minor obscure features of the play. Fuuu-

Okay news update!!
1. I want to move into an apartment so I can have my own coffee table, magazine rack and doomed pot plants. Magazine racks are so hot! I love magazines lately.
2. Having a Karen O day today, as in one where I worship her. because she is queen of the living fierce and she is probably going to play a sideshow in Sydenay this summer and that will be awesome. Plus the whole Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack thing. So where I'm at right now. So me, so me...
3. Speaking of awesome, look, it's a leaping Iberian wolf! (from this wildlife photog competition)

*Does she st!ll even spell her name l!ke that, or am ! so two-thousand-and-late?

** Don't call me pretentious or I'll sic minimalism on you. Not sure how that would work, but you don't wanna risk finding out right?

V.ii

If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.

In honour of impeding affluence: Erised

I'm whiling away my time making object lust lists. Partly because in a month and a bit HSC is over and we're going on a job hunt! (We're going on a job hunt!) We're gonna catch a big one (We're actually gonna catch a poorlypaid casualposition but hey!) I'm not scared! I'm-not-scared!

But not really because of that. Tackily, in a similar time frame I turn 18 and people keep asking me that impossible question, "What do you want?" to which I must honestly answer thusly. I got everything I need. But if you insist, please don't fill my desk drawers with cutesy, grammatically incorrect Azn stationery. They're already fairly bursting with such fruits of my junior years at a selective girls' high. I'd much rather...

1. your favourite book
   
2. Moleskine soft cover pocket-sized daily diary (oh fuuu- I'm a wanker. A converted converted wanker...) (D:) (whatever, they're nicely designed. a no-name brand daily diary of a similar size, appearance and function will of course suffice)
   
3. an analog camerah (my SLR's shutter function has ceased to do so)
   
4. Polaroid? lomo? Demekin fisheye 110? something photographically fun...
   
5. Agyness Deyn


6. band tshirts! Next year I'm making new friends by o n l y ever wearing band tshirts, so efficient in delineating tastes and preferences that we'll barely need to talk! Leaving so much time for other, better things... (Personal branding FTW. Webcomic shirts are also good for this sort of thing.)


7. shooting stars, unicorns, hash brownies, whatnot...


8. a dictionary of quotations (to wean me off Tumblr)


9. a wicked hat stand/coat rack. Captain Hook.
   
10. a vegan cookbook: two New Years resolutions with one tome! (them being to live mindfully and learn to do basic stuff for myself)


11. an extravagntly mystical and beautiful incense holder
    
12. cream or brown headphones. Like these darling retro panasonic ones, but available in Aus :(


13. gypsy jewellery
    
14. magic stockings or scarlet socks


15. braces (pants braces, but preferably teeth braces because people wivvem are sooo cute! but I hear they're also expensive and painful, so maybe not)


16. gin/red wine/butterscotch schnapps


17. the gift of knowledge
    
18. nothing
    

And yet it stands: no matter how hard I hoard curiousities, complete collections, and vigorously Improve My Existence with Lifestyle Products™, I will still die alone. Ah, the incontrovertible! Breathe it in now, breathe it in!

P.S. "I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared.

The Thought-Fox

Here's a poem by Ted Hughes. It's about writing a poem, or maybe rewriting essays and notes once accessible from a wayward USB, minus the misery that entails though. God I feel so uninspired & disconnected... Accio perspective. But fuck this year.


I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.

Countdowns:

18 days until HSC begins

40 days until it's over & I turn 18

then formals

then schoolies

then sanity?

So you walk that way, I'll walk this way

The future hangs over our heads
And it moves with each current event
Until it falls around like a cold, steady rain
Just stay in when it's looking this way

-Bright Eyes, Landlocked Blues

We graduate this week! I know I'm leaving, but I don't know where to...

I need Tumblr back for things like this. Random media sharrin. A couple more months yar.

I also need to smile smile smile! At least Devendra Banhart was once a senior high (to use the American) loser too:



Ooh look we both have awkwardly short hair, stupid knitwear and an interest in curious quotes. The girl on his right has an unattributed Wilde quote under her picture. The boy on his left has rosy cheeks bordering on fatal-fever territory. I have a tummy ache and school-centred anxiety. Oh I wish I had a suntan, I wish I had a pizza and a bottle of wine!

"Well, I think the way you feel as a teenager stays with you, forever. I really believe that. And we try to change and we hope that we change, but we don't really in big ways, in serious ways. I think the personality is formed at that time, for the good and for the bad. ... We all want to grow up and move on and appear to be different to people. And we want people to see us in a different way. But, I don't know, I think the personality is very, very strongly cemented, and we just bear whatever shortcomings we have and learn to live with it."

- Whatever shall we do with you Morrissey?

No, this.

I'm going to overcome uncoordination in a few weeks and just do what they're doing. Like everywhere. Swish, swish...

© 1971, Mary Sue Ader-Andersen

This.

Guys today is the 90th anniversary of the Battle of Amiens!

So it was like, "the black day of the German Army" --> Hundred Days Offensive --> Armistice!! More or less. Woohoo?

Let us celebrate with a whimsical drawing from this guy who I'm digging like a fertile art garden lately:

Ah, but General Erich Friedrich Wilhelm Ludendorff is not amused!





Sorry General Erich Friedrich Wilhelm Ludendorff... Also, Monash has a freaking throne. What a neat guy. This is seriously the pinnacle of my weekend.

The amusements of my outrageously long day:

1. Instead of the terrible cartoon I drew in society today trying to explain the shining brilliance of this picture, behold the glorious glorious original:


2. In confirmation that I am just a fan of Prussia, as people keep questioning my pseudo-nationalism: (Like all day today. Like, three times. Question it not ye impure of blood!) So Frederick the Great, the king of Prussia, was no fan of coffee. In 1777, he declared: "It is disgusting to notice the increase in the quantity of coffee used by my subjects… Everybody is using coffee. If possible, this must be prevented. My people must drink beer."

"He himself had been brought up on the old beer soup and reasoned that if beer soup was good enough for the monarch, it was good enough for his subjects." (The world of caffeine by Bennett Alan Weinberg, Bonnie K. Bealer)

We Prussians have come a long way since then, and indeed submerged ourselves in the world of caffeine thanks to many sleepless nights spent doing modern history homework and planning a socialist revolution. First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin!

“A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture,
or doing embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so
temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an
insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another.”

Mao surely has some Prussian blood in him yet (although he needs some more exclamation marks in there. Just imagine the exclamation marks kay! There, that was one. You can shuffle it around for greater effect if you want.) We will nationalise healthcare and heiresses, and the only class will be modern history class. Get it my friends? That was a pun! Dyslexic on fire...

1 2 Crush On You

Let's build a little house that we could live in, or a ridiculous apartment to be featured in The Selby, and cut each other's hair.

Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717-1768)

This man is my hero tonight, as I sit battling ancient history notes in a fluffy dressing gown and silly hat, for several reasons in addition to this shared experience:

1. The padre of modern archaeology and art history who "showed that it was possible to understand ancient cultures through their artefacts, and introduced order, system and knowledge into archaeology". What about Karl Weber? What ABOUT Karl Weber? He had his moments sure, but lots of the Pompeii stuff under Weber was messy and damaging anyway and JJ was cuter.


2. Also totally queer.


3. And Prussian!

You go Johann Joachim Winckelmann.

My god I am a genius!

I just realised why my impulsively short haircut since a few days ago is so awesome - It mimics the shape of my childhood mushroom beret/squishy Rad Rags hat! I'll never have to wear it again! (Unless it's super cold, but still, accessory efficiency is these GFC'n times.)

...Yeah, ceci n'est pas un blog actually. I'm just bemoaning the lack of social networking sites in my life, but also kinda of celebrating them. It's fun- got bored today, so I read a book! Quaint, huh? Nonetheless, absence of Twitter makes my head full of Twitter-sized thoughts that scream around inside it, wings thrashing hopelessly etc etc, and the urge to purge online is occasionally like crippling. Quite a habit to kick. Tumblr patches please? (No, just... no.) Draconian measures are all Bodhi responds to these days though. They've mostly stopped me from hiccupping up random complaints into the ether, like, say, "Shit my PIP is now 10 925 words of repetitive waffle, unformatted quotes and resource lists." But hey, operative word mostly!

So, positive affirmation time: I am going to do so much work tomorrow. So much. I'm going to finish like two major works and do heaps of other stuff, and still have time for yoga and walking and personal hygiene and absorbing the new Sarah Blasko album. I won't be tired despite impending late night and I won't be paralysed by stress. It'll be totally wunderbar, I promise.

To make this entry worth your while, here are some nostalgic action shots circa last last summer. I'm not a summer person at all, but it does feel good to remove all my pairs of socks every now and then, and also one must be actually madly psyched for this summer above everything else in future life, ever. *Alice Cooper growl* "Schooool's been blooown to pieeeces!" Collective chin up my year twelve lovers, happiness is just around the corner. Hey now hey now, hear what I say now, we'll be there for you...

Oh L. Cohen,

"The future is already here, and it's always been bleak. The whole place looks like a butcher's shop. Probably always did."

If you go to ze party on Friday night dressed as Adam Ant

you will be A for Awesome:

My music is where I'd like you to touch!

The prospect of triple j's Hottest 100 Of All Time poll has for some reason thrilled the shit out of me. Probably just the pleasure of pseudo-constructive dilatory activities (thinking about things!), but I like lists/like popular music/didn't like High Fidelity but still like music lists anyway. I guess that's why? So while I'm carefully compiling my own top 10 favourites EVER (it's ridiculously hard, have so far shortlisted 108 songs...), here is a link the imperfect but generally valid timeline from the jjj website of pop landmarks from the 60s to now. Behold, Stuff You Really Should Know!

EDIT:

Here lie Bodhi's Favourite Songs in No Real Order, At the Age of 17 and One Half, With Short Explanations. But yeah, voted for these 'uns.

• Truce - The Dresden Dolls
  The ultimate break up song. Clocks in at just over 8 and a half minutes, which is all you need really when it charts the successive stages of loss, self-destruction, anger, and bitter victory of a broken relationship. Simultaneously melodramatic and mental but heartbreaking and human and true. I like it alot. Amanda Palmer is my favourite.
  
• I Like Giants - Kimya Dawson
  First listening: A nondescript Thursday night somewhere in the wheezy start-up months of 2007, being driven home from that horrible dance class in Dad's little guava Mitsubishi, listening to triple j. We both sat in the car for just another a minute or two more once we'd pulled up , transfixed by her humility. This song sounds so naive, but so wise, and so catchy! Special place in my heart fer sher.
  
• Someone Great - LCD Soundsystem
  Just before I left for India in December 2007 I decided that I needed a Favourite Song. This came along. It fit! Perfectly ambiguous lyrics, bizarrely melancholy electronica. Curled up with mild food poisoning and a bruised heart in the women's dorms in an ashram in Bihar I used to listen to this on repeat, real soft to save batteries. There were no power points so I had to ration my mp3 player pretty hard for a few weeks... Someone Great got about 70% of listening time. It's like sublime.
  
• Fiction - The Luckmiths
  Mmm love a good narrative song. So chill, so wry, so nice!
  
• Be Gentle With Me - The Boy Least Likely To
  Actually I'm kinda pissed that this song has wormed its way onto my final list over so much other high quality material. I'm really sick of it's sickening cuteness. But it seems to describe me so perfectly, and has continued to do so despite the massive emotional and other changes I've gone through the past two years, that it's somehow made it anyway. You've won this round BLLT!
  
• Overture - Patrick Wolf
  Deep stirring string parts are such a frigging turn on, honestly. This dark-amazing-beautiful creature (combined with Regina Spektor's Hotel Song, which was on the shortlist), brings back the most vivid memories of the new perspective of moving house for the first time ever: July 2007, gloves, gardenias, walking home, generally healing. Furthermore, his Magic Position tour in November that same year was possibly the most fucking incredible thing I have ever seen/heard/felt!
  
• Hey Ya - Outkast
  Have you ever been to a party? Have you ever danced to this song in the glorious fizzy first stages of love at first slightly drunk? If the answer to the second question is no, then you have never been to a party.
  
• The Anglo-Saxons - The Mountain Goats
  I feel genuinely guilty for putting an obscure historical novelty song as my MG choice here, given the breathtaking intelligence and emotional honesty of the rest of his stuff. But it was too hard to choose between Love Love Love, This Year, Autoclave, Going To Georgia, and everything else, so I went with this one because it never fails to pin a silly grin all over my face. Plus, history is awesome!
  
• Hurt - Johnny Cash
  Mercifully, I've actually moved on from really loving this song in terms of the degree to which it speaks to my current experiences, but it is still so good. Also covers rock and my list needed one and this may be the most moving and 'original' cover version of a song ever.
  
• April Skies - The Jesus and Mary Chain
  Just awesome. Another break up song, if you're into that sort of thing (I clearly am.) Now that I think about it, this spot could possibly have gone to a more deserving recipient, but I was tired and under pressure while voting. No regrets though! Non, je ne regrette rien...
  
• Bonus Beatles song: Rocky Raccoon
  No best-songs-of-all-time list is complete with a song by them, so I'm cheating with the blog version. Similarly, I can't believe there's no Cure or Smiths here either, but there you go. Rocky Raccoon is a hugely underrated, the ye-olde sense of ballad and honky tonk piano gets me every time. So playful!

This list is ridiculously incomplete, but all's fair in love and war and music polls, and sacrifices had to be made (however unwise). This isn't 'Nam, bitches get left behind.

If you voted, gimme your list! Or even if you didn't, devise a favourite song list anyway. It's sehr challenging but an interesting process.

Darwinian literary criticism

Flipping through the most recent issue of New Scientist this morning I came across a fairly interesting review of a book about how storytelling shaped humanity- On the Origin of Stories: Evolution, cognition and fiction by Brian Boyd.

Here are some of the good bits:

Boyd argues that art, including fiction, is a unique human adaptation whose
chief function is "for improving human cognition, cooperation and creativity".
His excellent accounts of these three areas of human activity show both an
impressive mastery of the science and an admirable inclination to question
orthodoxy.

[...]

Boyd does acknowledge that stories need both creators and audiences, and he
analyses their different evolutionary roles. Taking a cost/benefit approach, he
argues that the process of creating a story may be expensive in terms of time
and energy but is intrinsically rewarding because it appeals to our brain's love
affair with pattern. It also reshapes the mind, promotes a creative approach to
problem solving and increases the storyteller's social status. The audience,
meanwhile, pay a price in their time, but in return acquire a deeper insight
into society and the minds of other individuals.This cognitive exchange,
however, requires attention. "

Art alters our minds because it engages and reengages our attention," Boyd
writes. This may sound obvious, but for Boyd it has sweeping implications for
the content of stories. For one, it means that surprise is crucial - fiction
must appeal to our evolved preference to pay attention to the unexpected. So too
are elements of the fantastical, the ability to take readers beyond the here and
now, and the capacity to engage their emotions and appeal to their innate
attraction to pattern.

And when I looked it up on the website in order to do a bit of copy+paste magic, there was a link from that article to an article about literary Darwinism. Read it if you like! It is basically about a developing way of reading that challenges the prevailing idea in the way we approach humanities that "Nature is nurture, or, put another way, our nature is simply to spoon up whatever culture happens to feed us - and we are what we eat." Relating fiction to the idea that the human mind is not a blank slate. I don't agree with everything in it, notably the gender stuff, and it doesn't appeal to some of my more romantic ideals about art. Also, it's just about this experimental branch of criticism. However, it's a mildly though-provoking form of synthesis, if you're into that sort of thing. Another weary step on the potholed road to some sort of conclusion re: nature vs. nurture? Perhaps. In a very specialised way. Maybe I will think some more about this in the morning...

In defence of the word 'cookie':

Like most good, kind and free-thinking Australians, I am generally anti-Americanisation language-wise. But I have just officially decided to make a permanent exception when describing choc-chip biccies, or any of those soft sweet baked things. 'Biccies' is fun to say because it makes me feel like an absolute Aussie and a sweet old nana, but amongst certain circles it just doesn't feel quite right. And 'biscuit' in its full form is nowhere near jolly enough. And according to the Online Etymological Dictionary:

biscuit
respelled early 19c. from bisket (16c.), ultimately (1330) from O.Fr. bescuit "twice cooked," alt. under infl. of O.It. biscotto, from M.L. biscoctum, from L. (panis) bis coctus "(bread) twice-baked."

cookie
1703, Amer.Eng., from Du. koekje "little cake," dim. of koek "cake," from M.Du. koke (see cake). Slang application to persons attested since 1920. Phrase that's the way the cookie crumbles "that's the way things happen" is from 1957.

Little cakes are cute! Sold! And "twice-baked" rather smells like inaccuracy to me! Also, the 'Biscuit Monster' would have sounded really menacing so the USA wins this round... Cookies for all peoples. However, 'lolly' still forever wins out over 'candy'. The former is derived from 1362, lollen "to lounge idly, hang loosely," perhaps related to M.Du. lollen "to doze, mumble," or somehow imitative of rocking or swinging. Specifically of the tongue from 1611. Which I think is hilarious and good. 'Candy' has evolved from the Old French sugar which evolved from Arabic from Persian from Sanskrit (probably) from Dravidian (possibly). Too much history! It overwhelms the simple sweetness!

So this is because I was eating a freshly baked cookie just then I was like, "Shit what do I call it?" then I decided what to call it, then I decided that this all required a public manifesto in the shape of a blog entry. Procrastinating? Who, me?

The Lucksmiths announced that they are breaking up today.

Fuck. By the way, I don't really use this blog anymore, and this is going to be a really pointless post, but I'm self-banned from Tumblr and I want to vent about this a little and I can't think of a friend who won't think I'm a moron if I call them all upset, so general internettage it is. Maybe someone sympathetic will stumble upon this, and and...

1993-2009. Sigh.

From- http://www.thelucksmiths.com.au/:

Dear Friends,

There's no easy way to put this, so please accept our apologies for the seemingly abrupt nature of this post. We are saddened to announce that after sixteen years as The Lucksmiths, the band has decided to break up.

The last few years have been an uphill battle in many ways, so this isn't a hasty decision based on any falling-out between band members, but rather, an acceptance of the inevitable. This decision was finally reached a few months back, so we've had plenty of time to let it sink in.

We had tried to operate the band in a way that would suit all of us, but at the same time we've been very conscious that too much compromise would in the end affect our creative output. We're very proud of the music we make, and we certainly didn't want it to start stinking. So, in taking our cues from Devo, we've decided to whip the proverbial cream before it sits out too long.

We're really excited about our upcoming European tour, and have booked some Australian dates for our "farewell tour" in August. The details for these shows are in our gig guide. We really hope to see as many people at these shows as possible, as we will be playing super long sets, cramming in as many old favourites as possible.

We must apologise for not making it back to the USA, Canada, Japan, New Zealand or Singapore, or to the other amazing European countries we've previously visited — and for never having made it to the other fifty or so countries we'd hoped to tour one day.

We really want to thank you all, especially the wonderful people who've helped us out in any way, and anyone who's listened to our music or come to a show. We've loved having you in our world and we will miss you dearly.

xo The Lucksmiths

An email from the Lucksmiths' label, Matinee Recordings, added, "Tali White, the band's lead singer and drummer, has decided to further pursue his career as a primary school teacher, while Marty Donald, Mark Monnone, and Louis Richter intend to head forth into new musical terrain whilst juggling parenthood, study and the fun-park ride that is casual employment." (Pitchfork)

Maybe it's just the stress and the everything and that I get silly about stuff, but I am trying to stop crying right now and it's difficult. School is bad and can only get worse. Gotta leave to go see Hamlet in half an hour. As much as I dig the play, really hope this production is teen-lite, as am so not in the mood for something depressing and long! Agh the trials and tribulations of the teenaged middle class, haha. "FML." Incidentally, The Lucksmiths are playing a show with Okkervil River in Melbourne this Sunday! Oh if only I lived there and was 18 and not in school and shit.

The upside is that they're playing a farewell tour with Darren Hanlon supporting. The other downside though is that that Factory gig is on the 21st of August which is EXACTLY in the middle of HSC Trial exams, which are the ones that actually count at my school. And also I have seen them live before only once but they were supporting Hellogoobye and HGB fans are insanely rude! But that time was really good anyway and I met Tali afterwards and he was so sweet. "There seem to be alot of people here tonight who have fridges!" Nawhh.

P.S. If you don't know who they are what you should know is they are super cute and their songs are "redolent with ordinary minituae". As The Vine puts it:

The bands live shows became legendary, as much for the hilarious interplay between the three members - guitarist Marty Donald, bassist Mark Monnone and drummer/lead vocalist Tali White - as for their signature tunes. With Monnones's bass bubbling away alongside White's deft snare and cymbal work, (lead guitarist Louis Richter joined the fold in 2004) it was Donald's wry lyrical observations and razor sharp wordplay that elevated the band to cult status. His tales of simple vices and local lifestyles easily elevated to universal level, pathos streaked with kid humour and bittersweet nostalgia. Or as Wikipedia pithily puts it:

Songs by the Lucksmiths are mostly about love and relationships, but also deal with other everyday issues such as notable friends or warm weather.

You may be stupid Wikipedia but, sometimes, you are also right.

Thank you for the music guys!

((EDIT: The Sydney show is in fact 18+ only. Frignuts.))

((Double Edit: No it's not! Fuck school, we're going!)

Things that are true:

I am a list-maker and a sporadic journaller. I'm one of those ridiculous dreamy people who prefers to substitute overly-long roll calls of corny pleasant things for actual relevant biographical information. Accordingly, I overuse the word 'lovely'. It's a plague amongst the romantic, notably the indie-blogging romantic (of which I wouldn't necessarily count myself part of, but still). Lovely this, lovely that, calling strangers by pet names, milkmaid braids in skinny girls' hair, She & Him, Au Revoir Simone...

As a public service, here are some adjectival synonyms for the general livening-up of things: admirable, adorable, alluring, amiable, attractive, beauteous, bewitching, captivating, comely, dainty, delectable, delicate, delicious, delightful, enchanting, engaging, enjoyable, enticing, exquisite, fair, fascinating, fetching, glamorous, gorgeous, graceful, gratifying, handsome, knockout, lovesome*, nice, picture, pleasant, pleasing, prepossessing, pretty, pulchritudinous**, rare, scrumptious, splendid, stunning, sweet, taking, tempting, winning, winsome.

* 'having or displaying warmth or affection' (my favourite)
** 'having great physical beauty' (don't really like this word)

Okay? Are we good peoples? Ever onwards!

I love colours! My favourite colour this week is warm yellow light (that's a colour okay). My equal second favourites are plum, and every shade of blue you can think of except electric. My favourite painting is Judith Slaying Holofernes by Artemesia Gentileschi because it is absolutely badass. I pretend to like super dark chocolate and spicy foods more than I actually do because it makes me feel powerful and in control. That used to be a secret, but I just put it on the internet so it isn't anymore!


I have a pretty prolific internet presence. This is largely because I hope that someone, one day, will find me, click my links, and fall so stupidly in love with me that they lose the power of speech. I am also hoping that this person is Stalker Type #2 (the type that goes through my Facebook photos again and again, imagining themselves in them with me), and not the type that makes hats out of human skin (Type #5, v. worrying). Beggars, however, cannot be choosers!


As a dedicated phase-goer-througher, I can never hold down a hobby for more than a week or two. The only real exceptions to this habit are the appreciation of music and photographic art and/or journalism. Webtrawling doesn't count as a hobby. Oh hi, I'm the most generic person in the world!


I cannot sustain writing. Um, the end?

P.S. This was saved in my (bursting) drafts folder about a month ago, but the past few days we've been listening to lectures on Ted Hughes about biographies and conflicting perspectives and whether you can own your own life story, and what is private and public, and whether there is such thing as absolute truth. The paradox of putting anything intimate into the public domain and expected not to be shredded for it. Sylvia Fucking Plath, et cetera. So when I found this entry just then I thought, why not? Sure, so there are plenty of reasons why not. But I never give the internet much of myself anymore (bar ugly desultory little bursts via Twitter and the like). Maybe that's an insanely good thing, the internet shouldn't and daresay doesn't want me. But I felt like writing for a bit with no real purpose so fuck it. Self-absorption is the new self-absorption! Thank god it's the weekend peoples, that's all I'm trying to say...

I just realised why I have so many internet accounts.

They're horcruxes. Social networking sites are fucking horcruxes. Facebook, Blogger, Twitter, Flickr, deviantART, last.fm, Tumblr... My soul's been ripped into seven, I'm barely human, I can't stop. Think about it- your Bebo or Lookbook or whatfuckingever isn't just the slimy silver snail trail you leave all about cyberspace as you try desperately to live your life both online and off. It's about as close as you think you'll get to immortality without selling yourself to reality television. Hell, the internet is about to REPLACE reality television. Too much information, too much lifestyle prostitution, too much. All for the sake of procrastination? Including but not limited to. Golly gee.

"Sometimes, I think silence is going to be the new punk," she said. "We're
all going to throw our BlackBerries off bridges and start talking to each other
again."

Generationext launch party

Autumn 2009 (during National Youth Week)
Sunday 5 April, 6:00-8:00pm
FREE EVENT for teenagers
Museum of Contemporary Art
Circular Quay

They're really getting into Yayoi Kusama, her art is the dress up theme this geNext. Polka dots, mirrors, 1960s, etc. Anyway the MCA is opening its doors yet again, for free food and mocktails and um mingling galore! Good times will surely abound...

Reading Amanda Palmer's old blogs makes me happy in a time of school-induced unhappiness.

She is such a magical creature. So much passion, so little restraint. Maybe she overshares sometimes but I love it, I lap it up because it feels like truth when little else does. Sometimes I just want to BE her, to take everything in my stride and be spontaneous and shout and sing and wear outrageous, not entirely fashionable, things! Oh to be free. Enjoying her hastily and regularly Macbook-ed musings on art, small tragedies, perception... It's all about perception, isn't it really? All of it!

"A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats average $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?"

- The Huffington Post

...are you dead my friends, or just comfortable? I'm so tired, everything I do lately is absolutely sporadic. Every emotion, every gesture, every spurt of academic dedication defiantly followed by sullen adolescent lethargy... It's not balanced, it's bipolar. My eyes are welling with instant coffee. As of tomorrow I am regulating my internet time UBERSTRIKT. Disconnection is nigh! Sing and clap your hands! I want to be a tree in a forest, big and old-smelling, dying every autumn in a blaze of colour then you know how it goes... Life cycle etc. I want a million little animals living inside of me, eating me but sustaining me at the same time. Um and I never want to be sarcastic again! Or be late. Shit, I'm late already...

Mood: Romantic

Oh, it's practically autumn! To celebrate the fast-approaching end of foul oppressive heat I am wearing bright lovely colourful things, and opening all the windows. The first day of March is always massive for me emotionally/historically/etc... but amongst other things, today is the Roman New Year, Bosnian and Herzegovinian Independence Day and Chopin's birthday! So I'm just sitting about, studying, listening to music that's sadder than I am, struggling to enforce the only-one-packet-of-Mi-Goreng-a-day rule...





To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats, 1819

Florence and the Machine

Cold War Kids cover which is totally growing on me. It's a slideshow vid, she's pretty hot. Most of her other stuff sounds like a rocked-out Kate Nash but this is more stripped down and showcases her voice which is like, mega...

I think this song could save my life.

Listen to the Live in Columbus 12-2-99 version though. Breathtaking.

The Arcade Fire are stunning...

Oh gosh. Come to Australia now yeah? But it's okay, I don't care about missed concerts anymore because in exactly one week from right now I will be in the same room as Amanda Fucking Palmer and that will be good. Everything else makes me want to jump into a bucket of acid and never have to face to the sick sad world again, but Ms. Palmer is good. I am reeeally tired! Lady A, give me strength...

Horses

E.P as P.S.

P.S. as P.S.

I'm gonna UH UH make her mine!

...because love isn't quite complicated enough as it is!

Gross, another Hallmark Holiday on which to a) spend money, b) feel bad about yourself, or c) all of the above? It's cool though, I don't mind! Let us celebrate by trawling a softer world archives and doing meagre amounts of last minute homework. Lol, school...

Truisms

by Jenny Holzer.

a little knowledge can go a long way
a lot of professionals are crackpots
a man can't know what it is to be a mother
a name means a lot just by itself
a positive attitude means all the difference in the world
a relaxed man is not necessarily a better man
a sense of timing is the mark of genius
a sincere effort is all you can ask
a single event can have infinitely many interpretations
a solid home base builds a sense of self
a strong sense of duty imprisons you
absolute submission can be a form of freedom
abstraction is a type of decadence
abuse of power comes as no surprise
action causes more trouble than thought
alienation produces eccentrics or revolutionaries
all things are delicately interconnected
ambition is just as dangerous as complacency
ambivalence can ruin your life
an elite is inevitable
anger or hate can be a useful motivating force
animalism is perfectly healthy
any surplus is immoral
anything is a legitimate area of investigation
artificial desires are despoiling the earth
at times inactivity is preferable to mindless functioning
at times your unconsciousness is truer than your conscious mind
automation is deadly
awful punishment awaits really bad people
bad intentions can yield good results
being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular
being happy is more important than anything else
being judgmental is a sign of life
being sure of yourself means you're a fool
believing in rebirth is the same as admitting defeat
boredom makes you do crazy things
calm is more conductive to creativity than is anxiety
categorizing fear is calming
change is valuable when the oppressed become tyrants
chasing the new is dangerous to society
children are the most cruel of all
children are the hope of the future
class action is a nice idea with no substance
class structure is as artificial as plastic
confusing yourself is a way to stay honest
crime against property is relatively unimportant
decadence can be an end in itself
decency is a relative thing
dependence can be a meal ticket
description is more important than metaphor
deviants are sacrificed to increase group solidarity
disgust is the appropriate response to most situations
disorganization is a kind of anesthesia
don't place to much trust in experts
drama often obscures the real issues
dreaming while awake is a frightening contradiction
dying and coming back gives you considerable perspective
dying should be as easy as falling off a log
eating too much is criminal
elaboration is a form of pollution
emotional responses ar as valuable as intellectual responses
enjoy yourself because you can't change anything anyway
ensure that your life stays in flux
even your family can betray you
every achievement requires a sacrifice
everyone's work is equally important
everything that's interesting is new
exceptional people deserve special concessions
expiring for love is beautiful but stupid
expressing anger is necessary
extreme behavior has its basis in pathological psychology
extreme self-consciousness leads to perversion
faithfulness is a social not a biological law
fake or real indifference is a powerful personal weapon
fathers often use too much force
fear is the greatest incapacitator
freedom is a luxury not a necessity
giving free rein to your emotions is an honest way to live
go all out in romance and let the chips fall where they may
going with the flow is soothing but risky
good deeds eventually are rewarded
government is a burden on the people
grass roots agitation is the only hope
guilt and self-laceration are indulgences
habitual contempt doesn't reflect a finer sensibility
hiding your emotions is despicable
holding back protects your vital energies
humanism is obsolete
humor is a release
ideals are replaced by conventional goals at a certain age
if you aren't political your personal life should be exemplary
if you can't leave your mark give up
if you have many desires your life will be interesting
if you live simply there is nothing to worry about
ignoring enemies is the best way to fight
illness is a state of mind
imposing order is man's vocation for chaos is hell
in some instances it's better to die than to continue
inheritance must be abolished
it can be helpful to keep going no matter what
it is heroic to try to stop time
it is man's fate to outsmart himself
it is a gift to the world not to have babies
it's better to be a good person than a famous person
it's better to be lonely than to be with inferior people
it's better to be naive than jaded
it's better to study the living fact than to analyze history
it's crucial to have an active fantasy life
it's good to give extra money to charity
it's important to stay clean on all levels
it's just an accident that your parents are your parents
it's not good to hold too many absolutes
it's not good to operate on credit
it's vital to live in harmony with nature
just believing something can make it happen
keep something in reserve for emergencies
killing is unavoidable but nothing to be proud of
knowing yourself lets you understand others
knowledge should be advanced at all costs
labor is a life-destroying activity
lack of charisma can be fatal
leisure time is a gigantic smoke screen
listen when your body talks
looking back is the first sign of aging and decay
loving animals is a substitute activity
low expectations are good protection
manual labor can be refreshing and wholesome
men are not monogamous by nature
moderation kills the spirit
money creates taste
monomania is a prerequisite of success
morals are for little people
most people are not fit to rule themselves
mostly you should mind your own business
mothers shouldn't make too many sacrifices
much was decided before you were born
murder has its sexual side
myth can make reality more intelligible
noise can be hostile
nothing upsets the balance of good and evil
occasionally principles are more valuable than people
offer very little information about yourself
often you should act like you are sexless
old friends are better left in the past
opacity is an irresistible challenge
pain can be a very positive thing
people are boring unless they are extremists
people are nuts if they think they are important
people are responsible for what they do unless they are insane
people who don't work with their hands are parasites
people who go crazy are too sensitive
people won't behave if they have nothing to lose
physical culture is second best
planning for the future is escapism
playing it safe can cause a lot of damage in the long run
politics is used for personal gain
potential counts for nothing until it's realized
private property created crime
pursuing pleasure for the sake of pleasure will ruin you
push yourself to the limit as often as possible
raise boys and girls the same way
random mating is good for debunking sex myths
rechanneling destructive impulses is a sign of maturity
recluses always get weak
redistributing wealth is imperative
relativity is no boon to mankind
religion causes as many problems as it solves
remember you always have freedom of choice
repetition is the best way to learn
resolutions serve to ease our conscience
revolution begins with changes in the individual
romantic love was invented to manipulate women
routine is a link with the past
routine small excesses are worse than then the occasional debauch
sacrificing yourself for a bad cause is not a moral act
salvation can't be bought and sold
self-awareness can be crippling
self-contempt can do more harm than good
selfishness is the most basic motivation
selflessness is the highest achievement
separatism is the way to a new beginning
sex differences are here to stay
sin is a means of social control
slipping into madness is good for the sake of comparison
sloppy thinking gets worse over time
solitude is enriching
sometimes science advances faster than it should
sometimes things seem to happen of their own accord
spending too much time on self-improvement is antisocial
starvation is nature's way
stasis is a dream state
sterilization is a weapon of the rulers
strong emotional attachment stems from basic insecurity
stupid people shouldn't breed
survival of the fittest applies to men and animals
symbols are more meaningful than things themselves
taking a strong stand publicizes the opposite position
talking is used to hide one's inability to act
teasing people sexually can have ugly consequences
technology will make or break us
the cruelest disappointment is when you let yourself down
the desire to reproduce is a death wish
the family is living on borrowed time
the idea of revolution is an adolescent fantasy
the idea of transcendence is used to obscure oppression
the idiosyncratic has lost its authority
the most profound things are inexpressible
the mundane is to be cherished
the new is nothing but a restatement of the old
the only way to be pure is to stay by yourself
the sum of your actions determines what you are
the unattainable is invariable attractive
the world operates according to discoverable laws
there are too few immutable truths today
there's nothing except what you sense
there's nothing redeeming in toil
thinking too much can only cause problems
threatening someone sexually is a horrible act
timidity is laughable
to disagree presupposes moral integrity
to volunteer is reactionary
torture is barbaric
trading a life for a life is fair enough
true freedom is frightful
unique things must be the most valuable
unquestioning love demonstrates largesse of spirit
using force to stop force is absurd
violence is permissible even desirable occasionally
war is a purification rite
we must make sacrifices to maintain our quality of life
when something terrible happens people wake up
wishing things away is not effective
with perseverance you can discover any truth
words tend to be inadequate
worrying can help you prepare
you are a victim of the rules you live by
you are guileless in your dreams
you are responsible for constituting the meaning of things
you are the past present and future
you can live on through your descendants
you can't expect people to be something they're not
you can't fool others if you're fooling yourself
you don't know what's what until you support yourself
you have to hurt others to be extraordinary
you must be intimate with a token few
you must disagree with authority figures
you must have one grand passion
you must know where you stop and the world begins
you can understand someone of your sex only
you owe the world not the other way around
you should study as much as possible
your actions ae pointless if no one notices
your oldest fears are the worst ones

PLEASE CHANGE BELIEFS.

Les Trois Mousquetaires

What is it about all the best films being centred around an invincible trio of comraderie? It's always two boys and a girl too, a hero and a best mate and a friend-slash-love-interest. Maybe it's vaguely objectionable in a couple of PC ways, but CBF. The formula works, and indeed I used to be in a friendship like that actually! Fun fact. Our Live is Not a Movie or Maybe.

P.S. They are all movies about growing up yes, and you know what happens when you are growing up? You (might) do the HSC! So I'm going to go back to doing homework now... Hurrah hurrah...

consistently inconsistent.

The latest ASW is so... touché.

Does anyone else remember Dinosaurs? That mad Jim Henson TV show? I just restumbled upon it, but once upon a time was an absolute favourite. Circa early primary school methinks, but Googling it now reveals that the intended audience was (probably ragingly leftist) adults: according to Wikipedia, topical issues featured in Dinosaurs include environmentalism, women's rights, sexual harassment, objectification of women, censorship, civil rights, body image, steroid use, allusions to masturbation (in the form of Robbie getting caught doing a mating dance by himself), drug abuse, racism, peer pressure, rights of indigenous peoples, corporate crime, government interference of parenting, and allusions to homosexuality and communism (in the guise of herbivorism). Aww, the 90s...

+ all my new Papermate Gel Rollers have stopped working, what the fuck is this shit? I blame it on the heatwave. Sacrebleu. It's so hot and my computer and spine are frigging up... Yeah sorry, am aware that irritable blogging is foul. But it's all these ch-ch-ch-ch-changes... Generally speaking, I don't know what to think. Perhaps it is the worst thing ever to think you have a chance when really, you just don't? It’s called a reality check. The last thing Amélie wants. Acht neun, gute nacht!

Actually I have some cultural postcripts re: Eurotrip09

First being, I've been reading Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino on and off during and since the trip. There is something wrong with my head lately and I can't sit down, begin things, finish them, but this book is a subtle, beautiful creature and I want to share a some random excerpts here. His writing is so incredibly elegant and measured and fantastical... It just seemed kind of fitting because it's all little descriptions of imaginary cities, explained to Kublai Khan by Marco Polo. And I just went on a wacky adventure to a couple of distant lands. So that's nice.

Cities and Memory 3.
In vain, great-hearted Kublai, shall I attempt to describe Zaira, city of high bastions. I could tell you how many steps make up the streets rising like stairways, and the degree of the arcades' curves, and what kind of zinc scales cover the roofs; but I already know this would be the same as telling you nothing. The city does not consist of this, but of relationships between the measurements of its space and the events of its past: the height of a lamppost and the distance from the ground of a hanged usurper's swaying feet; the line strung from the lamppost to the railing opposite and the festoons that decorate the course of the queen's nuptial procession; the height of that railing and the leap of the adulterer who climbed over it at dawn; the tilt of a guttering and a cat's progress along it as he slips into the same window; the firing range of a gunboat which has suddenly appeared beyond the cape and the bomb that destroys the guttering; the rips in the fish net and the three old men seated on the dock mending nets and telling each other for the hundredth time the story of the gunboat of the usurper, who some say was the queen's illegitimate son, abandoned in his swaddling clothes there on the dock.

As this wave from memories flows in, the city soaks it up like a sponge and expands. A description of Zaira as it is today should contain all of Zaira's past. The city, however, does not tell its past, but contains it like the lines of a hand, written in the corners of the streets, the gratings of the windows, the banisters of the steps, the antennae of the lightning rods, the poles of the flags, every segment marked in turn with scratches, indentations, scrolls.

Cities and Signs 4.
Of all the changes of language a traveler in distant lands must face, none equals that which waits him in the city of Hypatia, because the change regards not words, but things. I entered Hypatia one morning, a magnolia garden was reflected in blue lagoons, I walked among the hedges, sure I would discover young and beautiful ladies bathing; but at the bottom of the water, crabs were biting the eyes of the suicides, stones tied around their necks, their hair green with seaweed.

I felt cheated and I decided to demand justice of the sultan. I climbed the porphyry steps of the palace with the highest domes, I crossed six tiled courtyards with fountains. The central hall was barred by iron gratings: convicts with black chains on their feet were hauling up basalt blocks from a quarry that opened underground.

I could only question the philosophers. I entered the great library, I became lost among shelves collapsing under the vellum bindings, I followed the alphabetical order of vanished alphabets, up and down halls, stairs, bridges. In the most remote papyrus cabinet, in a cloud of smoke, the dazed eyes of an adolescent appeared to me, as he lay on a mat, his lips glued to an opium pipe.

"Where is the sage ?"

The smoker pointed out of the window. It was a garden with children's games: ninepins, a swing, a top. The philosopher was seated on the lawn. He said: "Signs form a language, but not the one you think you know."

I realized I had to free myself from the images which in the past had announced to me the things I sought: only then will I succeed in understanding the language of Hypatia.

Now I have only to hear the neighing of horses and the cracking of whips and I am seized with amorous trepidation: in Hypatia you have to go to the stables and riding rings to see the beautiful women who mount the saddle, thighs naked, greaves on their calves, and as soon as a young foreigner approaches, they fling him on the piles of hay or sawdust and press their firm nipples against him.

And when my spirit wants no stimulus or nourishment save music, I know it is to be sought in the cemeteries: the musicians hide in the tombs; from grave to grave flute trills, harp chords answer one another.

True, also in Hypatia the day will come when my only desire will be to leave. I know I must not go down to the harbor then, but climb the citadel's highest pinnacle and wait for a ship to go by up there. But will it ever go by? There is no language without deceit.

5.
Marco Polo describes a bridge, stone by stone.
"But which is the stone that supports the bridge?" Kublai Khan asks.
"The bridge is not supported by one stone or another," Marco answers, "but by the line of the arch that they form."
Kublai Khan remains silent, reflecting. Then he adds: "Why do you speak to me of the stones? It is only the arch that matters to me."
Polo answers: "Without stones there is no arch."


In other news, I think I'm falling in love. I watched Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist twice on the plane there and back again, not because it's a particularly good film (so thin, so thin! Soundtrack is v. acceptable though- more of a mixtape than a movie), but because Devendra Banhart has this awkward, gratuitously indie cameo about 2/3 of the way through, and he's just so adorable. Wearing the cutest cardigan. That is all, I need some alone time with his hairy head now...

I lost the gloves that my mother gave to me

While on my ways to the make believe sea

Amd I lost the rings that my lover gave to me

While on my ways to the Red Salt Sea

And I lost my ways to my happy pen club

And ended up where I still can't say but

I lost my favourite pen on the way

And I lost my friend but that couldn't be

I lost the friend who sang with me

I lost my son but that couldn't be

I lost the son who sat on my knee

I lost my man I let inside me

And I lost my friend that my love and I shared

While on my ways to the make believe cares

And I lost the tunes that stuck to my ears

While on my ways to the make believe hears

And I saw Sapiena she sang to the sea

The only person left on the island was me

And I love the man who took care of me

He owns the ship the Charles C. Leary

Yes I love the man who took care of me
He sails the world on the Charles C. Leary

P.P.S.


Like a fox.
Comme un renard.
Come una volpe.
Όπως μια αλεπού.

[Translations courtesy Babel Fish, corrections welcome bilingual dears.]